


When the moon rises.

by MoonyBlack



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, More... - Freeform, Multi, Peter is 15, Pheromones, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Size Difference, Underage Sex, alternative universe, and... well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 20:17:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15893376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonyBlack/pseuds/MoonyBlack
Summary: If someone had told Peter Parker that he was going to be bitted by a radioactive spider in a school trip and it would gave him powers, he would have laugh.If someone had told that those powers involved a lot of sexual descovery, he would have laugh hard.When Peter was bitten by a radioactive spider, he decided it was best to hide his powers. Living in such a small town, it was impossible run from anti-mutant laws.But such powers carry more responsibility than he'd thought.





	1. Thor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter develops his new power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, there. This is kind of akward, so... Hey. This is actually my first time in this fandom, and I always write in Spanish in my other fandoms, so I'm pretty nervous. I hope you liked it, and if theres something please don't hesitate and tell me. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.

If someone had told Peter Parker that he was going to be bitted by a radioactive spider in a school trip and it would gave him powers, he would have laugh. So loud, noisy and indecently as he could managed, because it was utterly impossible something like that happened to someone and, beyond that, him. An orphan living in a remote little town in the north of the state of New York. That meant luck, and Peter didn’t have luck.

            Luck never was something Peter possessed at his short fifteen years, living with his aunt May and surviving by the little she earned on the only cafeteria in town, wasn’t what he called a life full of luxury and ideal comfort. Every summer since he was ten-years-old, Peter worked helping the Odinsson brothers with their Nordic antiques shop. Thor and Loki had came from some place far away in the middle of the north of Europe, had a funny accent and sold the most weird antiquities that Peter had ever saw. Hammers made of rustic steal, shields, axes, daggers, armors, all coming from were they lived and fourth hundred years old or more.

            At the time being, Peter dedicated almost all his afternoons and weekends enclosed on that place, surrounded by history. His salary was enough to help May pay for the house expenses, and if Thor paid Peter a little more than he owe for his work, Peter never said anything. Everyone in town knew about May’s situation, Peter was left by his parents at the sweet age of ten for her and Uncle Ben to take care of, however, Bed had died tree years later in New York. So, it wasn’t a secret that after Ben’s death, things had been more difficult for them, besides the therapy that paid for both having witnessed his death.

            So, luck wasn’t on his daily basis. Peter considered himself lucky to have May, he couldn’t have asked for someone better, but he knew that if was because of luck, May disserved better. She was an incredible woman, who would do anything for Peter, without hesitation, she would protect him like his own, and showed all the love she felt for him all the time, with homemade cooking and lots of hugs before school, comforting smiles and Russian takeaway at Natasha and Bucky’s dinner.

            That was why when Peter arrived home unconscious and feverish from his school trip, she almost had a heart attack. No one knew exactly what happened, only that they had found Peter faint in one of Oscorp’s bathrooms, and as quickly as they could he was taken to emergency in a hospital in Manhattan, and then transferred to the office of Dr. Banner, his family doctor. May, told him that it was the five most frightening hours of her life, after that, Peter woke up startled and scared.

             He couldn’t explain the experience hi lived at Oscorp, rather he didn’t want to, because no one would ever believe that he unintentionally had taken a sink off the wall without effort, either that said sink attached to his sticky fingers. Dr. Banner stated that it was a simple cold, because beyond the fever and the lost of consciousness, –that Peter reasoned was because he didn’t ate breakfast–, there were nothing strange about him. When the fever subsided, Dr. Banner had send him home with a severe sermon about the most important meal in the day and a lollipop, to be received by another sermon from May and his lack of consideration for himself and well being.

            After that, Peter had two days off from classes, kindly justified by Dr. Banner concern. Also was freed from his duties at the shop, when Thor stepped by later that night to give him what Loki called “healing potion”, which tasted like highly fermented beer.

            Those two days Peter spent experimenting with his new powers. He knew a thing or two about mutants, for nobody was a secret the existence of people with extraordinary and weird abilities. He also knew the existence of the campaigns against them, the rehab centers where they were sent, a bunch of children, to be genetically modified until their powers were wiped off, –one of his classmates, when he was on second grade, had disappeared completely after accidentally setting fire her desk–.

            So, Peter was terrified. He could climb walls and his strength had increased at the point of being extremely dangerous. If someone find out, he probably would end like his classmate, disappearing without anyone noticing, without anyone caring. Peter knew that May would never do something like that, but laws about mutants were complicated, and Peter doubted she could do something if someone with enough power finds out what he was.

            Peter wasn’t sure if his condition was the same as of a mutant, after all, he didn’t born like that, he had no idea if whether different laws were applied in such cases, nor did he know if there were other cases like his anyway.  So he decided to shut up and not mention it to anyone. Nothing needs to happen if no-one knew, and in his opinion it was the wiser choice. He’d continued his life, returned to school and job, as nothing strange had ever happened to him.

            That Saturday afternoon the flow of costumers in the shop was slow, so Loki had decided that it was a good day as any to take inventory of the new antiques that Thor brought from his last trip. Every so often, one of them went to their hometown to look for more antiques, always bringing so many that Peter had asked himself how much of it they could have in a town so small as the one Thor told him once.

            There were tree boxes full of things of various sizes, from horns to bright golden mirrors. So, he slowly dedicated to separated them by classes; horns, mirrors, hammers, weapons, clothes, books, runes, hair ornaments and so on, writing down in his notebook the amount in existence of each thing, and then handing it over to Loki for him to fix the prices. That kind of thing always fell on Loki’s shoulders since Thor had no patience to deal with it. At the end, Peter would help Thor to sort the antiques on the shelves, preventing him from simply throwing the antiques where they fell.

              Working with Loki was nice, the man always was silent and focused on his task, when he wasn’t making Peter trip with his own feet every time Loki made an embarrassing joke. Loki was an accomplished prankster, fan of watching the world burn, and provokes fight between people, without them even noticing, just for the pleasure of doing it. Working with Thor was different, the man was a mass of good-naturedness and smiles, laughs from the bottom of his chest and warm words tanned in his accent. Fan of pissing Loki off and drinking on every possible opportunity something called mead. It was almost impossible find a flaw on him, despite the lack of patience with numbers and order.

            Peter loved his job, he adored being surrounded by history and his bosses, he loved watch them live together, shouting insults just to ending with a sly smirk from Loki and a reverberant laugh from Thor.

            When Loki had finished the name and price assignment of everything inside the boxes, it was the turn for his brother to arrange them in the shelves or just find a place somewhere with the other antiques. The warm presence and easy talk of Thor kept them both, Peter and him, amused all the process. Peter was in the middle of an exciting history about May’s meat balls when the bell of the door chimed, announcing a client.

            Peter left an axe on the floor that was too heavy for anyone that wasn’t Thor, and went to the door between the maze of shelves and things. Seeming very self-satisfied, there was Mr. Stark.

            “Hey, Mr. Stark” Peter greeted him with a big smile.

            Tony Stark was one of the most eccentric people in the place, owner of Stark Industries, utterly billionaire, he’d decided to live in a small town away from everything, although his house was the largest and more luxurious in the place, it was still a town in the middle of nowhere. May had told Peter that after Mr. Stark kidnapping and multiple disasters after that –all the Iron Man situation–, he just wanted peace, so had decided to get away of the bustle of the city with several of his friends.

            He was Loki and Thor’s friend, and went every now and then to the shop and bothered Loki when he get bored of improving his suit or harvest millions on his company, which was pretty often. The first time Peter had meet him, being a forever Iron Man fan, he was speechless and froze by the sight of the most amazing hero he could think about. And when Mr. Stark introduced himself, that amazingness just grew. Two years from then and Peter was able to speak without stutter and stopped being so obliging.

            “Hey, kiddo, where’s your hideous boss?” Mr. Stark asked, taking off his dark glasses, even though it was early winter and the sky was more gray than blue.

            “Back finishing the inventory.” Peter pointed the office without looking.

            “I hope you meant Thor, Stark.” Loki’s voice sounded almost ominous as he walked towards them, avoiding a round wooden shield.

            “You know I don’t. See Peter? That’s why you need to come and work with me instead.”

            It wasn’t the first time that Mr. Stark had offered Peter a job, all the town knew that Peter was smart and really good on science, but he was reluctant to leave his job at the shop, just because Mr. Stark could pay him a lot more.  The Odinsson’s had opened the doors to him when Peter was only a child, sad for the death of his parents, they took him without questioning, probably only because of Thor good will. Leaving now felt like treason, it was almost impossible for Peter at that point. He couldn’t remember how many times he’d dinned with them, eating something homemade by Loki, who cooked incredibly complicated things looking like someone who could burn water.

            “Stop trying to steal my slave.” Loki made a dismissive wave with his hand just to put his arm over Peter’s shoulders. “Peter is mine already.”

            “You meant ours, brother,” clarified Thor out of the blue, causing a bored sight from Mr. Stark.

            “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter just shrugged.

            “Fine, but the doors of my _amazing_ lab will always be open for you, Pete.”

            After a wink that make the blood rush to Peter’s cheeks, Loki leaded Mr. Stark and Thor to the office behind the counter, leaving him in charge of the shop. With loads of resignation Peter got back to work, ordering the new antiques. This time he didn’t have to pretend that heavy things represented any effort for him or that high places were out of his reach. Humming a song he finished and only left those that were almost impossible for him to move without a really good explanation, so he just waited to ask Thor for help.

            With a satisfied look to his work –everything looked awesome, thankyouverymuch–, Peter got back to the counter. He could hear the conversation flowing trough the door clearly, the rumble of Thor laugh for some comment made by Mr. Stark. There was at least half an hour before it was time to close the shop, so they would be there until that and then they would go to Logan and Wade’s bar, tree blocks down the street.

            Peter knew his bosses routine, it was pretty common that every Saturday night they went to drink their weights on alcohol, even though Sundays they opened until noon they never seemed to have the slightest sing of a hangover.  He decided to ask for Thor’s help before he left with all his impetus, to move the few things that were missing. Knowing that if he didn’t finished the job today, tomorrow Loki would be pissed, and everybody hated that.

            With a light knock on the door, Peter was received by the warm and toothy smile of Thor, when he opened. Loki was sited behind his neat and clean mahogany desk and Mr. Stark was on Thor’s black leather loveseat, looking small compared by the way Thor looked there. Inside the office smelled like sweet mead with touches of the smell of the pine trees filtering trough the window. Bright marble floor under the dim orange light of a lamp and the last lights of the day spilling over it, despite the clouds.

             “Eh, I’m sorry Thor, but there’re some things I can’t move… Can you help me?”

             Of course, Loki took the opportunity to leave the responsibility of closing the shop over Thor’s shoulders. He stood up, took his wallet and a crystal bottle –clearly delicate and with amber liquid inside–, and nodded to Mr. Stark who understood completely.

            “Do it, Thor. We will go ahead,” said Loki with a shit-eating smirk.

            Thor seemed to want to argue, but after looking at Peter, who was still in the doorway feeling small, he just sighed and agreed. Peter say goodbye to Loki and Mr. Stark, who on his way to the door stirred Peter’s hair affectionately, and when the doorbell chimed announcing their departure, he turned to Thor, who looked like he wanted to go with them more than anything and start all the drinking contest he could.  

            Peter felt a little bit of guilt, knowing that he could move those things pretty easily, but he also knew Loki, and the next day he would harass Peter with questions about how he moved the giant armor that a month ago couldn’t move a single inch. He had almost a month with his powers and although the strength and sticky fingers had came at once, he continued developing other things like a more refined ear and a even better nose. Hearing that Loki had noticed with curiosity when Peter informed that Thor’s phone was ringing in the office, standing in the other side of the shop, the fact was that the phone was vibrating. It’d been hard enough to explain, so now he just preferred avoid that kind of interrogation.

            They returned to the area where they put most of the things, but Peter wanted to move a huge golden armor to the right and in the corner hang some stranger animal skulls that he really hoped were fake. Smoothly Thor moved the armor and helped Peter to hang the skulls, first placing the nails and then installing a small handle in the back of the skulls. They put them in descending order, and when they’d finished, Peter felt his t-shirt plastered on his back by the sweat.

            Hanging things wasn’t such a strenuous task to sweat like that, so Peter supposed it was something new about his mutation, apparently heat strokes. Thor put the armor in the place indicated by Peter, to move on to the showcase of different types of stones. There were everything from amethyst to onyx stones, some so bright and colorful that Peter wondered if they really belonged to planet earth. There were even river stones, brilliant and smooth by erosion, with engravings of runes.

            Peter indicated to Thor where to move it, (“about five meters over there, thanks,”) to hang in that section of the wall the new round shields. Unlike the others on stock, which were kept on the floor, these weren’t made of wood, but beater copper, shining and almost like a mirror they had intricate engravings that reminded Peter of the shield in the golden armor.

            At the moment when all the shields were on the wall, Peter felt the increasing heat of his body, although at least he wasn’t sweating anymore. The conversation varied from loki preparing a chocolate soufflé for the next day dinner’s to the last near-kissing experience of Peter with Gwen.

            Peter had kissed before, he was fifteen and he was a nerd, but he wasn’t stupid. At homecoming he kissed Liz Allan, after an embarrassing waltz that he couldn’t manage to dance. They’d kissed on the gym stairs, a clumsy and hurried kiss, just lips and absolute discomfort for both. It was obvious she knew how to kiss unlike him, she was older after all however that left Peter feeling exposed about his confidence. And after that complete failure, Gwen had arrived.

            Gwen Stacy was his laboratory partner in chemistry and biology, to Flash complete displeasure who might be in love with her since forever. From the beginning their relationship was simple classmate, because Peter was utterly immerse into his platonic love for Liz. If that hadn’t been in the middle, maybe he would have invited Gwen to Homecoming. She was funny and seemed understand his nerd-ish humor, which was why it felt natural when Peter took Gwen’s hand on their chemistry desk in the middle of the year. She didn’t reject him and they started what Ned called demi-dates, because they were just study sessions. In the last demi-date they had, Peter had bent over to explain to her a physics formula and Gwen didn’t look at the paper.

            She stood looking Peter’s face, and when he leaned over to kiss her, the librarian cough their attention, out of the blue, frowning and arms crossed. So, Peter decided that his next attempt would be somewhere else, where Mrs. Clark couldn’t shout that romantic contact was forbidden in the library.

             Thor was lying on the counter, watching Peter with a smirk so unlike him which made him shiver, because Thor was handsome, really handsome, and his blue eyes reminded Peter of Gwen’s, although hers were more like the sky and Thor’s reminded him a lightening, even if lightening weren’t blue.    

            “So, you never had kissed properly.”

            “Well, I didn’t say never,” Peter looked down, suddenly embarrassed, feeling his cheeks burning.

            “Come here.”

            And as if Thor was a magnet and Peter metal, he went there without a single thought, standing only thirty centimeters from the man. Thor was tall, so tall that Peter barely reached his _chest_ , he was big and as muscular as he could. Broad shoulders and strong –oh so strong– arms, made to surround women and make sweet, sweet love to anyone who was lucky enough to fall onto them.

            When Thor kissed him, everything went blurred. Suddenly his mouth was flooded with the warm of the Nordic’s lips, lips that moved slowly trying to open Peter’s mouth. It was overwhelming and addictive, exquisite and thrilling. Peter felt as if and electric charge was running down his back, and when he opened his mouth for Thor, it was like a lightening had split him in a half.  

            His tongue was soft and damp, and moved with such skill that was hard to keep up. Peter felt his lower lip bite, causing a moan to be drown in the older man’s mouth, who growled, making the kiss more desperate, more wet. The beard scraped Peter’s cheeks reddening them, and spit slid down his chin. But he didn’t care, that kiss was one of the best things that’d ever happened to him and he wanted more, he wanted so much more.

            Peter clung desperately to Thor’s neck and he picked him up easily, understanding what Peter was asking nearly tacitly. Thor began to spread kisses over his jaw and neck, and Peter just shook his head giving him more access, letting out moans and whines incessantly. The Nordic moved from the counter to the office, leaving Peter on Loki’s neat desk. Closed the door behind him securing it, and turned to Peter, who was panting and flushed.    

            Thor’s eyes seemed dark, completely dilated, and the expression over his face made Peter feel like the most hot thing he could ever see. He kissed him again, violent and wet, biting everything in his path squeezing him against the hardness in his pants. Peter couldn’t help moaning, because it felt huge, and he needed it, h needed right then and there.

            Thor took Peter’s t-shirt off and his pants with an overwhelming ease, and when his huge hand touched Peter’s cock over his boxers, Peter moaned in despair.

            “Please, ple – please.” His voice was wreck and his breathing stuttered.

            “Please what, sunshine?” Thor asked, and Peter thought that that had to be the most sensual sex voice he ever heard, no like he heard one before.

            “Please, touch me, _please…_ ” His begs were drowned by Thor’s mouth and his hand got rid of Peter underwear.

             Peter didn’t even think about the fact that he was completely naked while Thor had his clothes intact and didn’t do anything about it either, too concentrated on the hand around his dick, stiff and dripping. Moans came out without any restrain, but when Thor separated to spit on his hand, sanity suddenly returned to his body.

            That was really happening, his boss since he was ten-years-old was kissing him in a way that Peter only saw on porn and was touching him that no adult should touch a teenager. Peter couldn’t even say that he liked men, because he never felt any attraction trough them, he wasn’t gay. Peter, who was dating Gwen, was definitely not gay. And the guilt of thinking about Gwen was enough to stop with everything, until one of Thor’s fingers touched the rim of nerves on his ass and Peter’s resolution died in a long whine.

            Peter had never putted anything inside his ass, not even for experience, but when Thor stuck one finger, Peter knew he’d been missing something very important since his hormones led him to masturbate the first time. Thor seemed delighted with the sounds of Peter’s throat, whispering courage and obscene words in his ear, and how much it his screams would turn him on when his cock filled Peter’s ass.

            “Please, _please, Thor..._ ” Peter was a crying begging mess, two fingers inside now, and at some point they touched something that made Peter’s eyes whiten, a shock of pure and maddening pleasure every time Thor touched it. “Ple –”

            “What do you want, sunshine?”

            “ _Fuck me_ , fuck me, _please_ ”

            That seemed to break something inside Thor, because automatically his fingers weren’t on Peter’s ass, his rim clenching at nothing wishing to be filled again. But he didn’t had time to complain about it when Thor spat again on his hand and reached his pants, opening them. There, stiff, big and angry red was Thor’ dick. Uncircumcised perfection, pinky tip and dripping pre cum. He spread the spit a he could and without any warning, fixing his almost black eyes on Peter, entered at once.

            “Fuck,” Thor groaned, but Peter had run out of air, eyes shut and tear running trough his blushed face.

            It hurt, it hurt like hell. Peter felt Thor’s wet warm tongue lick his tears an that made his cock jump.

            “It’s all right, sunshine,” Thor was reassuring and warm, hands moving on Peter’s sides, soothing him, pinching his nipples and squeezing his tights, “Can I move?”

            Thor was such of gentleman, and he kissed Peter again, drowning him on the pain and pleasure mixed together, cock buried and pulsing on Peter’s ass.

            “You are so tight, Peter, you feel so good.” That relaxed Peter even more, he was still panting like a dog, but when the pain subsided, he nodded and Thor tucked his head on the crook of Peter’s neck.

            It started slow, Thor felt enormous inside, and Peter could swear he could feel it in the pit of his stomach. Thor growled in his ear, and Peter let out unashamed and noisy moans. The pace increased rapidly and when Thor touched the point inside his ass, Peter started to scream, feeling Thor dig his teeth into his shoulder, careless.

            “Yes, yes… ah – Thor, _harder_...” Peter was babbling, and Thor kissed him again, and again, and again.

            “You are so perfect, sunshine, so perfect,” those words were too much for Peter, and then he was a cumming crying mess, white stripes painting his belly. “Gods, _yes_ , yes Peter, come for me. You are so tight.”

            Peter’s body went limp on the desk, unable to keep holding up himself. Thor grabbed him by the hips giving it to him hard, fast and so, oh so good, so fucking good.

            “Do you like it?” Thor’s voice was maddening, rough and so warm, tanned with that accent.

            “I _love_ it,” Peter was hard again and his hand was pumping faster on his dick. “Mo – more, I _need more, Thor_ ”

            The thrusts began to lost rhythm, Thor breath itched and he started moving fast and fast, clenching his hand on Peter’s hips merciless, leaving purple-ish marks, eyes shut hard and jaw tightened. Peter cum a second time, unable to resist the sight. His ass clench around Thor’s dick provoking a long groan to leave Thor’s mouth, strangled as if he felt too much pleasure to be true, and suddenly fell on top of Peter, kissing him ardently with uncoordinated thrusts until he was static. Peter felt Thor’s cock filling him with hot cum. It was a weir feeling all that warm inside him.

            They stayed there, heavy breathings reverberant on the walls, nice sunset spilling light through the window. Thor gently caressed Peter’s hair, humming some song from his homeland, and all Peter could think was _what the fuck just happened_.

            He had sex with Thor. His boss. Peter’s first time was with his boss Thor. The man who carried him on his shoulders when he was ten-years-old and seemed bored. That kind man, who helped Peter sort the shop and paid him more than he owed because Thor’s heart was that good.

            Thor fucked Peter on the office of the shop they both worked, on top of Loki’s desk, who happen to be his brother and Peter other boss. They were so screwed. There was no way in hell Loki didn’t find out, no way in a thousand years.

            The song followed its rhythms and Peter felt too numb, the hand caressing his hair did nothing more than making him sleepier and with the thought of how beautiful Thor voice was Peter fell sleep.   


	2. Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then, there was rejection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English isn't my first language, if there's any mistake, I'm sorry.

Peter woke up surrounded by darkness and the smell of rain. He opened his eyes and realized that he wasn’t in his room and that in fact he didn’t recognize this in particular. Peter sat slowly, feeling discomfort in his ass, and then, remembered everything.

“Oh no – oh god, _no_.”

The room wasn’t completely dark, through the window the light of a street lamp filtered, tenuous due to the storm that was unleashing outside. The walls were painted blue and there were clothes on the floor, none particularly own, plus a hammer on the bedside table, next to a lamp.

Peter lit the lamp, almost carefully, though he couldn’t feel of anyone else on the room. He needed to get out of there. Peter stood up as quickly as possible, finding his brand new state of nakedness. On his hips he could see handprints just as he knew there were hickeys on his neck.

  “Oh man, nonono.”

Frantically Peter began to rummage through the clothes over the floor, looking for his own, feeling a numb pain on his lower back. What time was it? He didn’t need to be a genius to know that this was Thor’s room. It was neat, but no really, so when Peter didn’t found his clothes, he took it like a lost cause. He would have to go inside his house through the window, because it was impossible tell May the truth. He took one of Thor’s flannels, which was huge, and looked for underwear on the drawers.

If Peter hurried, he would arrive home without anyone seeing him. His house was only two blocks away from the Odinssons’ shop, and their house was on the top floor of it, so Peter only had to run at the speed of light to home. He was grateful of wake up without Thor’s presence beside him, because he didn’t know how was going to see him in the face.

Barefoot and with clothes that didn’t belong to him, Peter went out into the hallway. It wasn’t the first time he was there, so he knew that the last door was Loki’s room, and the one in front of Thor’s was the bathroom. With a shudder he discovered that someone was taking a shower –said Thor–, so using all his spider powers trying not to be notice, he slipped into the living room, perfectly tidy and shining due to Loki. Over a small bed, on a corner was Loki’s wolf, Fenrir, who raised his head in acknowledgment just to cuddle again, ignoring Peter, as per usual.

When left the house, through the entrance that didn’t go to the shop, Peter ran. He didn’t remember running so fast in his life and when he got home- knew it was late. All the lights were off and only May’s room shone with the flickering colors of the tv. Peter sneaked into his room and stood there, sore, dripping endlessly and shivering with cold.

“No, no- C’mon,” he told himself when felt his eyes itch.

What would he do now? How he could see Thor’s eyes again, after Peter begged him to fuck him senseless? The memories came in a slowly but sure flow, foggy, as if at the moment his head was elsewhere. Peter remembered the kisses, the hands everywhere, the heat, the pleads, Thor’s voice. Remembered how he’d undressed him, how Thor praised Peter’s body kissing it as if were necessary to breathe.

Thor, the nice Thor. His boss Thor.

After Peter fell asleep on the desk, he vaguely recall Thor waking him up with kisses on the neck, bites on the ear and one hand around his already stiff dick. Thor carried him awkwardly up stairs into his house and there they fucked, again, like three times in a row. 

Peter felt irremediable guilt, because, had he seduced Thor? The man had never shown any more interest than the normal and never like a sexual thing. Thor had girlfriend, a scientist –Jane Foster– who came time to time to visit and for which Thor disappeared for entire seasons. He’d never touched Peter more than necessary, never saw him as an object of desire or something like that, and Peter didn’t remember once that Thor had saw him as anything else than the awkward teenager Peter was, too noble for something like that, as far as Peter knew.

Outside a lightning broke into the darkness and illuminated his room, reminding him that was still drenched and wetting the carpet, so, with the little strength of will he had left went to the bathroom. With the water as hot as he could tolerate, Peter stood there, feeling his skin flushing. And if his tears camouflaged with the water, that was between him and himself.

He actually in his memories never felt like anything was forced, Thor was only kind and gentle, and Peter himself had begged for more, so that left him with doubts, doubts beyond whether the whole thing was his fault. Thor had always seemed attractive, to anyone; the man was the image of perfection, perfectly blond, incredible blue eyes and stunning body. Peter was manly enough to admit that yes, Thor was attractive, but everyone could see that, not just him.

So, what bugged him to give Thor his virginity on a silver platter? Admitting he was attractive didn’t mean he was sexually attracted; Peter wasn’t even sure what in particular he was attracted to, to be honest. He hadn’t experienced enough. A kiss and a half didn’t count, because he was still deciphering how to do it, okay? And okay, Peter liked Gwen and Liz, but had never actually felt the terrible need to have sex with any of them. If he couldn’t even kiss them properly, he didn’t want to start wondering whether he could please them sexually.

Besides, Thor seemed like he wanted it too, at the moment didn’t showed anything than devotion to Peter’s body, and Peter wasn’t that lost on his own pleasure to missed it.  The way Thor held and cooed him, praising how receptive he was, how sensitive, how longing. It was a clear sign that he obviously wanted it as much or more than Peter. But the feelings were so distant, the need to have Thor all over his body and everywhere, it wasn’t a concept he could handle or understand.   Now, standing there in the shower silently crying, Peter didn’t found that toxic desire that had led him to ask Thor to fuck him until the moon disappeared from the sky.

He sensed all the love he felt for Thor, yes, but beyond that he couldn’t see himself saying “harder Thor, please,” –at least no that amount of times–, nor did he find it exciting that they did it on the office, in fact he found it shameful and a little bit gross. But at the moment, he found that knowing they were on top of Loki’s desk had make him shudder.

“Peter, you okay in there? I thought you would be at Johnny’s tonight,” May’s voice filtered trough the door,

“Oh, ye-yeah, but I forgot I’d to do an essay and have work tomorrow,” Suave, Parker.

“Uhm, fine. Don’t sleep late, young man,” it was obvious she didn’t buy it, and Peter knew that tomorrow would have an interesting interrogation breakfast. He waited until the door of her room close to start breathing like a normal human being again.

Peter though it was a good night to decide to go to one of Johnny’s Saturday night strange parties; clear excuse to arrive at untimely hours home without a rise eyebrow from May. Probably MJ and Ned would be wondering where Peter was, if they weren’t blowing his phone with calls and messages. He decided he should call them.

Then Peter remembered that his phone was somewhere inside his pants, lost in the outburst of lust. Along with his shoes and his favorite Star Wars shirt, _shit_.

Closed the tap when the hot water run out, feeling his eyes swollen and heavy. Didn’t want to see how he looked but still stopped in front of the mirror, removing the layer of condensed vapor on it. Of course Peter’s eyes were a mess, and there were bruises all over his neck and shoulders, kisses and bites. He’d found out that Thor liked to bite, firsthand. Then a new wave of feeling hit him.

What if it had been Thor? Peter once heard that there were drugs that cause such effects, not exactly the same, but quite similar. Though, he knew that drugs didn’t affect him like everyone else, because of his mutation, ibuprofen didn’t even work on him. He also knew that those drugs needed to be consumed, and Thor never feed him with anything, not even at lunch, too hungry to think about sharing Loki’s amazing food. Therefore it was an impossible option.

So, what happened? Why happened? It didn’t make any sense how they’d gone to something as foolish as a conversation to devouring their mouths as if they were possessed. Two people who weren’t attracted to each other in any sexual way and one whose sexual awakening still remained in awkward and shameful masturbation.

Peter went back to his room and decided deal with the hickeys problem in the morning, now he just wanted to relax and die, bit by bit, swallowed by his bed. Without thinking he had to see Thor in the morning, or the fact that he was missing the heat of his body. Peter didn’t want to go to work, but he needed his phone and actually his clothes too. And everything without Loki suspecting something which was highly unlikely, the mere fact that Thor missed their drinking night was suspicions enough. 

He dressed and then made with Thor’s wet clothes, he really didn’t know what to do with them- couldn’t dry them at that hour, whatever hour it was, and definitely couldn’t throw them on the laundry basket. If May found out, there would be questions, thousands of them, and Peter didn’t feel like confrontation, he didn’t feel ready to face anything at all.   The illegality of what they’d done didn’t hit him until then. If someone indeed found out, Thor would end up on prison, and that was an irrefutable fact, because no-one would believe in a fifteen-year-old boy that it’d be consensual, or at least as consensual he assumed beg for it was.

A shiver ran trough him, thinking only in the amount of repercussions that everything would bring, all the bullying at school, and the pile of medical tests that Peter would had to undergo, tests that could reveal the truth of his mutation. Thor would go to prison for statutory rape and Peter to a specialized center for mutants. 

Peter decided that he would talk to him. He didn’t feel raped, not exactly; he could recognize without doubt that he’d wanted it, even dared to say that at the moment felt like a need more than anything.

Called his friends using the house phone with May’s phone book, quickly, using the excuse that he’d been working late and didn’t feel like going anywhere.  They seemed to understand, besides the booing and “you’re such a pussy, Parker,” and Johnny, who asked more questions and wanted more details because it was half past twelve and “you never stay that late,” so made up a fake dinner and more work.

Huddle on his bunk, Peter felt like crying again. It was so overwhelming suddenly found such a high wall of problems, without any clue of how to jump it. Seeing Gwen on Sunday afternoon hours ago left Peter with a pool of excitement on the pit of his belly, now only mixed with the rest of his anxiety.

When May called him for breakfast and went to work, Peter realized he hadn’t rested at all. All his dreams were full of dark thoughts about what would happen, that make him woke up trembling and sweating, just to be lulled again by the rain hitting his window.

The morning was still gray, the heavy rain had diminished to a slight drizzle, which in May’s opinion wasn’t an impediment to having a great day. The wet ball of Thor’s clothes was firmly tucked under Peter’s bed until May went to work and he could wash it properly.

He entered to the bathroom to realize that there was just a yellowish shadow of the hickeys from last night. At least the healing factor did something to spare him more problems. However with the excuse of the weather, he put on the densest hoodie he had, that almost buried him. With jeans and a pair of shoes he never used and found May, beaming and making breakfast.

They had breakfast with a light conversation about May’s job, some boring history about Natasha looking sad because a possible fight with Dr. Banner, which Peter couldn’t quite picture, being Natasha one of the most stoic person he knew, always with a smirk and awesome poker faces. It was hard to conceive.

 “We’re friends, Peter, that’s why I can tell,” May said, moving her fork with a piece of pancake on the end. “So, why you didn’t stayed on the party last night?” Peter just ate another bite and sighed, because May just couldn’t let go.

“I didn’t feel like partying,” was his answer and shrugged. It wasn’t an utterly lie, he really didn’t felt like going out even at that moment, just wanted to hide in his bedroom and hoped that the weather stopped reflecting his troubled feelings

“Fight with Johnny again?” It was fair question; Peter was fighting with Johnny quite often, their personalities crashing too much.

Johnny Storm was his friend since he moved to town with his family. They didn’t get along immediately, because Johnny was the living definition of twenty-first-century idiot teenager, but talking a little bit, they discovered that both had a lot in common. Mets fans, science interest and, well, girls. Johnny studied with Liz, he was one year older than Peter, and like Mr. Stark, his family had a technology company, with more money than they could spend for the rest of their lives.

Still, to be fair, Johnny was nice, and a very good friend to Peter, so he couldn’t actually complain.

“Something like that,” if May thought it was just another of their dumb fights, she would let it go. Peter wasn’t wrong when she sighed and went back to Natasha’s topic.

Reluctant to finish with breakfast, because Peter knew that it would inevitably be time to go to work, so he took his time washing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen, to May’s complete delight, who spend that time preparing for work. Her shift wasn’t until noon, but she wanted to see if Natasha had fixed her problems with the seemingly confused Dr. Banner.

Peter finished with the dishes and saw that there were nothing more to do and was standing in the middle of the kitchen like an idiot eating a banana, he took the longest breath of his life and went out determinately to the shop. The hood of his hoodie covered him against the sad and faint drops of water. The neighbor’s cat was in the middle of puddles, in a complete dilemma, not knowing how to move without getting wet. He took it, even though the cat acted as if Peter was going to kill it, and left it on his neighbor’s porch, earning a few scratches.

He kept walking, slower than necessary, watching a lightening fall in the distance, making the landscape blink. Definitely that weather went hand by hand with his mood, as gray and harsh as he felt. When the shop was on sight Peter noticed that Loki was standing outside.  He was watching Fenrir jump in the puddles of water with canine excitement, and getting the most disappointed look from his owner.  

“Morning,” Loki turned to look at Peter with and perfectly arched eyebrow. Peter tensed because, what if Loki knew already? If he brought up the subject, Peter was sure he would die then and there.

“Good morning, Parker,” was his only answer, finishing his scrutiny and tuning back to watch Fenrir, who was now on his back in a mud puddle. “Had fun in your party last night, I see.”

“Par -? Yes, yeah I had fun. Of course,” Silence fell; Loki gave him an odd look, like there was something interesting in Peter’s words, but Peter was praying for the opposite. And when he was sure that Loki would shout him everything, the man just sighed, looking at Fenrir again, as if he was incapable of believe that that dirty thing was his dog.

“Thor is inside, he has your phone, I think,” Loki jabbed his fingers and Fenrir stopped, looking at Loki as if he clearly disrespected him, but still followed him when started to walk towards the entrance of the house. “Tell him I have to take care of  Fenrir,” he said with resentment as if that was Thor’s fault in some way.

“’kay,” when neither the wolf nor Loki were on sight, Peter took the second most deep breath of his life and went towards the shop.

 Illuminated only with the pale light that entered trough the windows, the shop seemed dark and full of shadows. The showcase of stones didn’t glow as always, it was but opaque and sad. The air smelled like damp and wood, ivory and metal polish. It reminded him of Harry Potter and Borgin & Burke’s shop. That was a pretty terrifying shop.

 Trying to get that lugubrious thought out of his mind, because he wasn’t Harry Potter, nor was he entering in a dark magic shop. He was going to be sixteen soon, so, he had to have enough courage to face whatever Thor was going to tell him.

Peter walked to the counter, deliberately ignoring the wall with the animal skulls, and the shiver going through his back. And there was Thor. Peter didn’t recall seeing him like that, maybe once when he came back from visiting his parents.  And he didn’t like that maybe that was because of him, he totally hate it. Thor was sitting, staring at the hammer that Peter had looked last night over his nightstand, moving it, like weighing it, as if at any moment the hammer would disappear.

“Uh, hi,” Peter stuttered, feeling his hands trembling against his thighs. Thor winced a little on the chair and looked up to Peter, his eyes seemed as stormy as the weather itself, and Peter told himself that maybe the weather was because of Thor’s mood, and not his.

“Hey, Peter,” his voice wasn’t the same as always, sounded uncomfortable and contained.

“Hi,” Peter didn’t know what to say besides that, his cheeks were on fire now and his trembling hands needed to be hided in the pocket of his hoddie. He remembered everything, every touch, every word, every kiss, and that make him shudder. “So, Loki said he would take – take care of Fenrir,” if Thor noticed the tremble of his voice, he didn’t say a word. 

“Ah, yes. The wolf like the rain,” he just nodded, over and over again watching the floor, and the man put the hammer on the floor.

“Yeah –” Peter said breathlessly, and one of Thor’s hands clenched. “And also said that you have my p-phone,” that were the wrong words.

Thor went still, and breathed violently.

Peter watched him took deep breaths, before look at his hammer and took Peter’s phone from his pocket, and just putted it over the counter, without a single glimpse to Peter’s face.

Everything felt so uncomfortable; he never felt that level of discomfort, no even when May cached him watching porn. Both too ashamed to say anything, and he didn’t know what to do. Clearly Thor was regretful and even if Peter feel weird about the whole situation, and guilty along with all it synonyms, he didn’t feel regretful, because at the end the experience was mind blowing and awesome. It was a selfish and immature thought, Thor had a girlfriend, and they had years together, even before Peter knew him, and if he felt guilty because of Gwen, he didn’t regret having living it, it was amazing.

“Thor, I – I’m sorry,” Peter said, his ears going pink and the flush reaching his chest, because that was so embarrassing. Saying sorry to someone who regret being with you, for obvious reasons –prison, statutory rape, Jane Foster, cheating, fifteen-years-old–, was horrible, especially since, despite everything terrible about the whole situation, Peter found that rejection heartbreaking, like some little part of himself expected another reaction from Thor, maybe that he took him in his arms and protect him forever.

 “What? No, why are you apologizing for? You did not do anything wrong,” he was so brilliantly honest that hurt, trying to making him feel better despite the waves of rejection he transmitted.

Peter felt his eyes itch, definitely that conversation wasn’t going anywhere near he expected, at least no respect his own feelings. He wasn’t capable of look at Thor, because knew that if he looked at him with pity or guilt, Peter would end up crying, _again_. Even if, the feelings were so contrary to Peter’s personality, that everything was overwhelming.

“But – I wanted to,” it was true, although terribly embarrassing to said it, he needed to let Thor know, that he didn’t regret it.

“Peter, you are a kid. You do not know what any of this means, and you cannot tell anyone about it,” Peter sucked a breath, because that didn’t felt like Thor at all, that sounded heartless and hurting. “That will not happen again never, Peter.”

 “Okay. It’s okay, it never happened. I get it,” that seemed to unsettled Thor, Peter watched his jaw tensed under his beard and his brow furrowed. Outside a thunder rumbled with fury. “Now, I’m going home.”

Going out was simple, ignore Thor calls wasn’t. Suddenly a deluge exploded in the sky, and Peter ignored it too, like his own tears. He ran away like the night before, running from the same person, and when he get home found it empty, for his own relief. May must be at work and wouldn’t return until the night, so Peter decisively wiped his tears and putted himself into doing something.

Thor hadn’t come for him, but that was to be expected. Unlike last night, which was a complete sea of doubts and fear, now Peter knew that at the moment he truly wanted to be with Thor, and remembered the feeling like something  primary and primitive, the need, the longing, the suddenly, everything. Now, thinking straight, after being rejected by him, he didn’t want Thor regrets. He didn’t want to be with him in any romantic way, he just didn’t want whatever Thor just offered, it felt awful.

Watching the washing machine shake, after throwing his wet clothes and Thor’s one, Peter decided that maybe it was best just let the things go. Thor –as painful as it was to accept– was right in some degree. Neither could allow something like that to be known, and if his feelings get in the way, Peter just needed to ignore them and that was it. If the day before didn’t exist, maybe tomorrow, after the glee and the heat of having his virginity taken away ended dissipating, they would disappear.

It could even be due to that, as it was his first time, somehow a feeling of dependency developed that Peter didn’t know. A lot was said about first times, like it was special and emotive, significant, even if he never saw it like that, maybe that was the reason. If the next day one regretted, the other could feel irremediably broken. It made sense.

 And with that thought, he spent most of the day. Ended up building his _Kylo Ren_ lego figure, dried the clothes, talked with his friends, watched _The Bridget Jones Diary_ , and when Gwen text him to meet at Natasha’s dinner, Peter felt a little better. It was four in the afternoon, so May probable made him take dinner there, so trying to count breathings to avoid miserable thoughts, he went there.

 _The winter widow_ was the only dinner on town, specialized in Russian food because of its owners –although Peter was sure Bucky wasn’t Russian, his accent was too much New Yorkian–, full of warm colors and lacking of the bright neon signs that usually had in places like that. It was least than two years old, opened a few months later after Mr. Stark arrival, so Peter knew they were two of the friends who moved with him.

It was located about five blokes from Peter’s house, where before there was another restaurant, and was very famous. Natasha didn’t cooked nor did Bucky; in fact Peter didn’t know what they did there, besides being the owners. There worked a Russian chef who was the husband of one of MJ’s neighbors, and in the night shift was a man who lived next to the dinner and cooked plain American food. Sometimes he could see Natasha or Bucky running the place with iron hand –quite literally with Bucky–, but commonly he just saw them sometimes or not at all.

That day there was just Natasha, sitting on a corner talking about something that seemed important. Controlling his improved hearing was going better and better every day, so if he didn’t wanted to, he couldn’t heard anything beyond a normal hearing. May was as cashier, charging someone who looked like a tourist, and gave Peter a cute smile when she saw him.

Gwen hadn’t arrived yet, so Peter went calmly to the table they always took. He was staring absently at his phone, still counting his breathings and dumbly thinking about the meme he was watching, when Gwen arrived.

Complete blond perfection, Gwen said hi, with her usual black hair ribbon, bangs and intense blue eyes.

“The weather sucks since last night,” she said, taking out her chemistry notes. Peter did the same ignoring that the gray sky reminded him his dreadful morning. 

 “Yeah. Should we start with this?” He pointed a formula on his notebook and she just nodded.

As usual their study session was quiet, and a bit later May brought chips and milkshakes. Gwen talked about the things that happened at Johnny’s party and about how much she was sorry that Peter hadn’t go. He just smiled, and apologized even if he didn’t felt it. After finishing their homework they just stayed there, talking and eating.

She looked gorgeous, Peter could notice, with her eyes lighter due to the light and the frizz of her hair due to the rain, Gwen had a green sweeter that stood out the color of her eyes and painted nails in a shade of pink. White tooth every time she smiled, and she smiled a lot and –

“You look amazing today,” he snapped, without thinking. Gwen stopped her story about Flash, and flushed violently.

That pink on her cheeks made her look even prettier. Gwen looked he hands and smiled “I’m just like always.”

“And you always look amazing,” Peter wanted to kiss her, right there and then, so he did it. Took her chin and kissed her.

Peter heard a sigh of amazement in the distance, followed by a very low shriek, which he gave to May, probably shocked behind the cash register. Suddenly aware of what he was doing he parted. Gwen was still flushed, and her lips where parted in surprise. At that moment Peter just could feel guilt, guilt because he didn’t felt anything like he felt with Thor, and that was unfair since he wanted to kiss her again.

Gwen continued with her story again, stumbling with her own words in one occasion or another, and Peter fervently tried to ignore the way May was looking at him. At sunset, Gwen had to go and Peter decided to walk with her, she didn’t live that far.

“Peter, you taking Gwen home?” May asked with a bag of takeaway on hand, making him blushed.

“Yeah –”

“Take this to Mr. Stark, please,” Peter nodded and took the bag.

It wasn’t raining anymore, but the sky was still as gray as in the morning, with oranges peeking slightly through the clouds at the edge of the mountain and was hot, Gwen didn’t seem to notice. They walked holding hands –Gwen’s initiative– and when they stood in front of her house she looked at him expectant. At least now Peter could say that _that_ was a date.

This time, the kiss was more conscious, there was movement of lips but they didn’t take it further. Unexpectedly Peter felt the heat on his body rising and started to sweat. He separated of Gwen, dumb smile on his face and earning the amazing image of Gwen blushed and pink lips.

“See you tomorrow at class?” she asked, smiling a bit more.

“Yep, see ya”

“’Night Pete,” he waved and she entered into her house, with hasty movements and Peter felt a lot better with himself.

That had gone better, and this time he really wanted to kept kissing Gwen, had wanted deepen it more. It wasn’t the same as Thor, but at least it was something. Besides, Peter had to get rid of the idea that everyone was going to kiss him the same way. People were different, he reminded, so it was better just keep being the same Peter as before.

Said that Mr. Stark house was next to the Stacy’s was a misunderstanding. Yes, they were neighbors, but Mr. Stark’s house had a huge gate and the actual house was three hundred meters farther in. The gate always seemed to open magically to those who were going to enter –once Peter saw Natasha drive and never stop even when she was so close of it, just to it opened like nothing– so he, sweating and nervous, rang the intercom buzzer.

“Good evening, Mr. Parker,” the voice was feminine and kind, and Peter wondered why Mr. Stark security team knew who he was.

“Hi – delivery? I’m bringing Mr. Stark food.”

“Well, come in. Boss is waiting for you in the garage,” the girl replied after tense seconds of waiting.

The gate opened just enough for him to enter. The garden was huge and perfectly took care of, large pine trees that didn’t cut to clean the construction space stood imposing before the sky. There was a fountain in the middle of nowhere with a black steel War Machine, water pouring from it weapons. The gravel road was pretty and the house was in the end of it, imposingly.

Peter clearly distinguished where the garage was; outside of it were several cars, some without primordial pieces, and others with crazy things popping out de hood, shining in blue. He walked there to find it closed, but before he could even thing of knocking, the door opened. The smell that hit Peter’s nostrils was grease, oil and burned wires.

Inside, it was lit with fluorescent white lights, leaving everything perfectly in view. There were more cars and work stations. In one of the longest metal tables was an Iron Man armor with the circuits and wiring outside –if anyone asked, the tremble on his legs was a cramp–, in a corner were a mechanical arm with a cone shape hat with the word _donkey_ written vertically. And with holographic, blue and bright screens in front of Mr. Stark, who was sitting on top of a hood.

“Oh, hey kid.”

“Hi, Mr. Stark,” Peter tried to relax the bubbling excitement in his belly.

 It was the first time he was there, seeing the workshop that Mr. Stark was always talking about. And it was everything and more than he’d ever imagined. Tools, of all kind and so many –oh so many– technology, that it was almost painful to watch. Mr. Stark seemed completely in his element there, with an _Iron Maiden_ shirt bright in the center due to the reactor, and stained with grease sweat pants, in socks and messy hair, with thick mark reading glasses –oh my god, glasses–.

“Brought the dinner you asked, Mr. Stark,” Peter stammered, unable to help himself, lifting the bag like it wasn’t obvious enough.

“Yeah, FRIDAY told me,” the man jumped off the car, holograms disappearing in the air with a flicked of his hand.

“Friday?”

“The AI that opened the door for you,” Mr. Stark took the bag from Peter’s hands, as if what was saying wasn’t a big deal.

“That – That’s awesome, Mr. Stark. Oh man.”

Mr. Stark chuckled amused by Peter’s enthusiasm. He motioned with a hand for Peter to follow him to a table that had a coffee mug that had seen better days and an empty pizza box. He put them aside carelessly and put the bag there. It was obvious that there were more food than anyone could eat.

“Thanks for bringing it,” he smiled, pulling out one of the containers. It was stroganoff, and smelled like heavens. Peter felt several drops of sweat running down his back. “Wanna stay to dinner? After I can show you the workshop.”

“Yes! I mean, yeah. That would be great, man.”

“Tell your aunt then.”

Peter called May who said yes with the sole condition of not arrive too late, because it was school night. They ate, simply talking about Peter’s options to college, and that led to Mr. Stark taking about his experience at MIT. Although that wasn’t a secret to anyone, Peter still found awesome that someone his age get in to MIT and graduated in just two years. It was unusual and incredible, but he still was Tony Stark, the one who escaped from a kidnapping with a flying armor and a battery attached to his body.

He stopped sweating by the time they finished dinner. Mr. Stark was guiding him leisurely through the work stations, while told Peter that he was using Mark-47 model to make a nanobots armor, that was why the armor were on the table. Said nanobots were going to be concentrated in a plate he would put on his chest, fed by the energy of the reactor element. That element was still a mystery, it was in the periodic table but the only one with real access to it, was Mr. Stark. Peter wanted to see it, but Mr. Stark just explained how it looked like. A glowing blue triangle.

In the mist of a long technical explanation about the mechanical implications of the nanobots in battle, Mr. Stark went suddenly silent. Peter looked at him expectantly, waiting for the rest of the explanation, feeling his body burn and blush. It took him a second to realize he’d approached the man until he was inches away. Mr. Stark was tall, not as tall as Thor, but taller than Peter.

So Peter had to stand on his tiptoes to kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. To those who let a Kudo and bookmarked the fic, I'm so happy and really grateful. Thank you so much, it means a lot.


	3. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just because, everything is a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry for any mistake I made.

Peter knew there were different types of kisses. Like the one that had occurred with Liz, insecure, inexpert, awkward. Kisses like those that happened with Gwen, which caused butterflies in the belly and sweaty hands. Kisses like the ones he had with Thor, desperate, electric, wet, kisses like the ones he had given to his body, almost adoring him, and with the little bit of violence because of the bites.

Tony Stark didn’t fit in any of those options, his kisses were calculated, almost as if he was working on a very complex and difficult equation. Experienced. It was said that experience made the master and Mr. Stark had experience enough, however the personality also had a lot to do. Like everything in the man, his kisses felt exclusive, an expensive tinge. The smell of his after shave lotion filled Peter’s nostrils, and his expensive cologne, the grease and the faint musty aroma in his hair, like he had wetted himself on the rain over the day.

They were kisses designed to cut breaths and make those who received them lose their mind. And if wasn’t since the man’s firm grip on his waist, his knees would have failed, because Peter was melting. Mr. Stark’s tongue came in and out of his mouth, sucked his lips and caused continuous moans to escape from his throat. It was delicious, exhilarating, exciting and addictive.

“Look at you, baby, so anxious,” Mr. Stark separated Peter, taking him by the shoulders, his blue eyes clear under the fluorescent lights of the lab. Mr. Stark had always seemed an imposing man to Peter, full of himself with self-esteem above the clouds.

His voice was husky, vibrant, white skin and ebony hair, Tony Stark was anyone’s dream. As with Thor, Peter could admit that yes, Mr. Stark was attractive, that he was a dream, because anyone could do it, without questioning. It was common to see people flirting with the man, melting into his charm and looks. So yes, Peter’s legs trembled and a moan was consumed by Mr. Stark’s mouth.

The man raised him simply, leaving him over the counter, throwing some tools that broke the hot silence around them. They parted, Mr. Stark seeing himself completely on his element while Peter was panting, looking for some air for his lungs. Cheeks flushed and foggy mind, Peter’s only thoughts were from Mr. Stark mouth to the hard feeling against his tight, which made him trembled with expectation.

“What do you want, baby?” the man asked, taking Peter’s chin between his fingers and opening his mouth a little.

Peter gasped a little more, and more instinctively than anything else, he lowered his lips to the level of the hand, kissing the tips of Mr. Stark's fingers, calloused by the years of work, and earning himself a dark, predatory look. He stuck out his tongue, sliding it slowly between the fingers, not really thinking about it, and wanting to give everything just to get that smirk on Mr. Stark's face. So he closed his mouth around two fingers, sucking hard and blindly, not knowing how well he was doing, but getting a guttural growl under his breath from Mr. Stark.

The fingers were salty, but Peter didn’t mind, he moved his tongue with nonexistent mastery between them, peering through his lashes.

"So polite, but use your words, Pete."

"I wan... wanna suck it," he murmured shakily, with a thread of saliva connecting his mouth to Mr. Stark’s fingers.

"Hm ... You will but not today." Mr. Stark's voice had changed, and it was a possessive growl that made Peter stop breathing.

Abruptly, he felt Mr. Stark get rid of his pants, without too much effort, eyes fluttering through the almost non-existent marks on Peter's thighs that were suddenly standing out due to the white light of the place. He felt like Mr. Stark caressed the one on his hip, ignoring the bulge clearly highlighting his boxers, and then he pressed harder, as if trying to get rid of the previous one and leave one of his own.

"We've been having fun, haven’t we?" Mr. Stark tone wasn’t something Peter would call violent, but it was the first time he had ever heard it from him, it was one he probably reserved for especially crazy villains he faced, cold and aware "Who left you like that, baby?"

Peter choked on his breathing, arching his back when Mr. Stark's hand pressed his cock hard. It was so hard that he could cry for the relief that that made him feel, it was a delicious touch, but frustratingly static.

"Can’t tell you," despite being in that kind of limbo, fiery, delirious and full of desire, Peter could still rationalize that he shouldn’t pronounce Thor's name, not even remotely, Even so, Mr. Stark's insistent hand squeezed a little more, now putting his face into the hollow of Peter’s neck, and whispering hot and dark in his ear.        

"Who?" A whimper came out of his mouth, unable to restrain it, it was all too much, he felt he’ll come in any moment if Mr. Stark simply slid his hand a little, and that just would be so shameful.

"I-I can’t" that earn him a deep growl from Mr. Stark, who broke away abruptly, with Peter almost crying for the loss, only to get rid of Peter’s boxers and T-shirt now.

Peter tried not to think that much about how Mr. Stark completely ignored his neck, which the night before was bruised and violated by Thor's mouth. He tried not to think about the fact that this was Tony Stark, a day after being Thor and that something, completely strange and extreme, was happening with him. Not even in the fact that his second time, it would also be on a table.

Again he was in front of a fully clothed man while he was as his mom had brought him into the world, completely naked. Mr. Stark raised his legs, making Peter's flexibility visible, and smiling darkly at the sight of it. Peter was there, completely exposed to the dark eyes of Mr. Stark, who seemed to want to do a thousand unnameable things without really deciding.

"On your belly."

Peter obeyed, unable to resist the tone of the man, got off the table, and stood with his back to Mr. Stark, with his ass on the air and his torso almost glued to the desk.

"Pretty thing you are." Mr. Stark traced his ass, leaving a flaming trail on all the skin he touched, Peter choked on his breath when he felt him separating his flesh, and whimpered when heard him hissing under his breath.

Peter expected anything, a finger, maybe, even Mr. Stark cock, but he never expected to feel the tongue running through his slot, earning a little squeak of surprise. It was an incredible, delirious feeling and if someone could die of pleasure, Peter would say that this was his end. Mr. Stark held him with one hand on his lower back, preventing him from moving abruptly against the heat that was his mouth.

With his head on his arms, and trembling knees, Peter came, letting out whimpers and muttering Mr. Stark's name over and over again. Mr. Stark laughed softly against his tender hole, feeling Peter's contractions.

"So sensitive" Peter, embarrassed, didn’t take his head out of his arms, but soon there were two fingers full inside him, which forced him to rise quickly.

They went in and out easily, probably because Thor had left him already tender or because Mr. Stark knew very well how to do his job, but the initial discomfort never came, and when the third finger entered, Peter was already panting uncontrollably and muttering curses without any sense.

"Fuck" and _slap_ , a strong spank shot against his buttock, taking him to a dark and evil place.

“Language" Mr. Stark murmured, gently stroking the now flushed skin, earning an even longer whimper from Peter.

"Wha- what was-?"

  "Who, Peter?"

He was so possessive and obscure that Peter didn’t know what to do, he’d never been spanking but it was strangely exciting. Also, he felt the terrible desire to tell the truth and earn whatever it was that Mr. Stark would give him, but he couldn’t and shouldn’t betray Thor, he shouldn’t break his agreement. He’ll not say anything about it, more than anything to avoid all those terrible consequences he’d thought of. But still, a darker part of Peter wanted to say it, he wanted to tell Mr. Stark how abandoned Thor had made him feel, so betrayed and hurt, in order that the man would take him in his arms and fuck him senseless.

Mr. Stark's fingers curled in a way that made Peter sob, with the other hand firmly on his hip, whispering how tight and perfect his ass was. He asked him who’d made the marks and that he would erase every trace of that person.

"Please, Mr. Stark- do it" Peter begged, because he only wanted to get the heat of Thor's skin and the feel of his lips against his neck out.

It was weird, because despite being totally focused on Mr. Stark's touch, Peter kept remembering Thor vaguely, as if he’d marked something inside him, as if in fact he wanted him to be there too, with Mr. Stark, touching him and devouring him from head to toe.

“What?”

"Make me forget, please." The fingers inside him stopped suddenly, with a violent hiss from Mr. Stark and the sound of his pants being opened, and Peter knew what was coming.

He trembled when he felt the tip of Mr. Stark's cock touch his hole, covered in lubricant that he’d taken somewhere, and when the head passed the rim of nerves that was his ass, Peter heard him growl.

Mr. Stark slammed his hips until he was completely inside Peter, squeezing his hips tightly, Peter stood on his tiptoes to find each thrust that brought out long and throaty moans.

"Ah-ah, M-Mr. Stark," those groans probably belonged to some porn actor, and not to Peter, hands firmly fastened to the edge of the metal table, creaking a little under them from how hard they squeezed. Mr. Stark’d found the point that made him choke on his moans and now attacked it fervently.

Peter felt his cock again hard, hanging and swaying to the rhythm of the thrusts, surprised at how much the lubricant made the strokes smoother, still finding the maddening point that made him shrink his fingers and drool on the desk.

"Tell me how you feel?"

"Feel- so good, _ohmygod._ "

"Hm. It's that so? "

" _Yes_ , please, don't- _nngh_ -stop, you're the best- _aaah_ \- Mr. Stark." Peter's voice came out panting, surrounded by throaty moans.

Mr. Stark stopped, giving Peter some sense and he rolled his hips in search of more movement. He came out of Peter and turned him around, again mounting him on the table and raising his legs to his ears, then slamming in.

"The best, you said"  he started moving again with a torturously slow pace, which had Peter rolling his eyes and pressing for more contact.

" _Yes..."_ Peter hissed, "Mr. Stark please-"

"Better than whom?"

It was maddening, the movement, the pulsations, the way in which Mr. Stark was between the perfect v that formed his legs, putting his flexibility to the limit.

"Better than _him_ " Peter clung to Mr. Stark's shoulders, when the thrusts took marathon speed " _ohmygod yes_."

Peter was red; he felt the heat on his cheeks, his neck and chest, his eyes watery and his back sweaty. Mr. Stark manhandled him as if he were a toy, raising him and attacking him without contemplation.

Until he felt himself dying, his belly contracting, his back arching and his hands seeking support at the table. Peter came again, spilling cum on his stomach and that seemed to do it for Mr. Stark, whose assaults lost their rhythm. He bent down and took Peter from the back of the neck, attacking his lips insatiably, as he spilled himself inside, his breathing warm and body trembling between kisses, with shallow thrusts as he finished. Peter moaned long, feeling the heat inside him, and Mr. Stark's hot body on him, a long growl escaping from the deepest of his chest.

And suddenly, Peter's phone took them out of their state to be bliss post sex. Mr. Stark separated from him, with huge eyes, like two billiard balls, fully aware, all the darkness of sex simply lost.

It was terrifying to see the change, but Peter also felt the tension go to his head, despite feeling so relaxed. Mr. Stark was ten paces away in less than a second, arranging his pants frantically, without turning to look at Peter. He lunged for his clothes, completely scattered anywhere on the floor. The phone rang in his pants pocket, so when he took it and saw May's name, all the color drained from his face.

"May?" he actually tried to make his voice sound as stable as possible, even though he struggled to put on his underwear and prevent his legs from failing.

"Peter, it's late, I told you it's school night."

"Yeah, I know. I'm on my way."

"You better, young man."

Peter hung up, feeling his stomach sink a little more and felt his eyes itch when he saw Mr. Stark throw something with evident frustration. It was evident that he was repentant, as much or more than Thor. Unlike Thor, if this came to public record, the career of Mr. Stark, both business and superhero would fall apart, would be such a scandal that Peter didn’t want to imagine, the cameras, paparazzi and stress, all that accompanied by the criticism of social networks and the possible flock of Iron Man lovers calling Peter gold digger.

No. Peter didn’t want to imagine it.

Still, he wished that, like Thor, Mr. Stark would had take him to his room and make it properly, but the man flatly refused to look at him, cursing under his breath and moving slowly through the garage, as if he felt trapped and wanted to flee. Already with his pants on, Peter noticed that his T-shirt hung from the armor he’d seen before, as if Mr. Stark had thrown it without thinking about where it fell. He approached shakily, and sobbing, not really wanting to be heard, even so, Mr. Stark did, turned suddenly, like he couldn’t believe that Peter really was crying, but Peter didn’t believe it either.

He’d never been a crying boy, at least not before the night before, or that same day. His emotions seemed an unknown and strange lake to Peter, where contradictory feelings mixed, and what he began to feel for Thor the night before now was what Mr. Stark generated. They didn’t make sense, they were alien to him, he never felt anything like that for anyone, not even Gwen at the moment, and Gwen was a treasure in his life.

But there he was now, with small tears moistening his cheeks and feeling terribly guilty. Because deep down he knew, and now he’d confirmed, that it was his fault. Somehow, Peter had incited two good men that never saw him as anything beyond what he was, a angsty teen, to take him in his arms and fuck him until he whimpered their names. And in this case even more. He’d kissed Mr. Stark, he’d approached, stood on tiptoes and kissed him.

Peter put on his shirt, now ignoring the look of Mr. Stark, who seemed to hesitate between approaching or saying something from where he was, as if Peter were somehow radioactive. Peter sniffed and wiped his face abruptly, searching for his backpack next to the table where they had eaten. The containers were still there, some with leftovers inside, witnesses of what had happened. In the distance he heard a happy shriek from Dum-E, who seemed to be fixing something, or at least trying.

"Boss, Mrs. Potts is calling you" FRIDAY spoke through the speakers, sounding strangely disappointed, also witness of what had happened there.

" _Fuck_. Tell her I'll call later. "

"Yes, boss."

The room was silent again, Peter sighed and cleared his throat, trying to get courage and meaning in what he would say.

"I'm sorry."

" _You_ 're sorry?" Mr. Stark asked, clearly disturbed by the sound of Peter's voice, husky and trembling. As it had been when he apologized to Thor.

"Yeah ... I'm sorry, Mr. Stark." Peter remembered Mr. Stark's unspoken promise when he’d said he wanted to suck it, where he said there would be a next time, but it was obvious that it wouldn’t happen again and that probably Mr. Stark would never approach him again.

He practically ran away, even though he heard Mr. Stark murmur his name, as if he wanted to stop him without really getting close, but he ignored it. FRIDAY kindly opened the doors for him, like she wanted to get him out of there as quickly as possible, since being an AI, she could know exactly that what Mr. Stark had done was below the legal at least twenty meters.

The streets were dark and very cold; the winter that year would be freezing. Dark clouds prevented the full moon from showing, blurring its light and giving a mysterious aspect to the night. Peter ignored it, ignored the landscape and especially the cold, feeling the tears slide down his face. He wished it were raining, to hide how miserable he felt at that moment, to hide that feeling of emptiness that Mr. Stark and Thor had left him, and that they probably felt nothing but pity for the poor orphan child who seeks the attention of older men because daddy issues of some kind. At least, that was what he thought, and it was devastating. Everything was his fault, even though Thor had been upset with that fact. It was his fault. Something was wrong with him, because the need for heat, the violent desire and the want to be filled until they left him sobbing couldn’t be normal for a fifteen-year-old boy who considered himself heterosexual and struggled to have a fairly normal relationship with a girl.

When reached his street, Peter saw Wade and Logan’s bar opened, he heard laughter coming from the warm interior, but on top of that, came the voice of Thor, who was arguing with Loki. Peter concentrated on listening, sensing the annoyed tone of Loki, who clarified to his brother that he clearly _could not_ leave indefinitely because of _that mortal_ , whatever that mean. It wasn’t a secret that Loki hated his brother's girlfriend. Peter saw it as overprotective, because if he had a brother and his partner didn’t like him, it would also be that way. However, Loki did nothing to hide his disdain, being evident in the derogatory manner in which he spoke about her.

He didn’t hear Thor's answer, because there probably wasn’t any, but he heard the door open, spilling more light into the street and the soft music coming from the speakers. Thor stopped on his tracks as soon as he saw him, but Peter ignored his gaze, now almost running up the street. Even so, both were going in the same direction, so the man didn’t take long to reach him.

"Peter" he heard, Thor's voice was soft, as if he didn’t want to hurt him in any way, it wasn’t cold like in the morning but it wasn’t like the usual one either.

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

"Peachy" Peter replied, this time daring to look at him, showing how hurt he was because of him, because of Mr. Stark and the world in general.

Thor took him by the chin, stopping him on his tracks and raised his face, looking at his neck.

"Who did that to you?"

Peter put his hand on his neck, where a purpleish mark was that Mr. Stark had left at some point.

"You." He lied, because at that time, as a normal person, Peter should continue to keep the marks of the previous night.

"You're lying."

"I'm not, and it's none of your business." Peter exploded, feeling his stomach tense at the way Thor wrinkled his face. He pulled away from the grip on his chin and kept walking. His hands were deep in the pocket of his sweatshirt, but he felt them trembling of annoyance, jealousy and disgust.

"Peter."

"Save it." Thor's house was there, at least ten steps away, and Peter wanted to leave it behind to get home and feel miserable in his own loneliness.

"Sunshine, come here." That left him static in the middle of the street, empty if not for the neighbor's cat who looked at them with shining eyes.

"Don’t call me that." 

It was a stupid impulse, because Peter knew they’d made everything clear in the morning. Nothing had happened, nobody would talk about anything. Peter had been thinking about it, then why did Thor insist on reminding him? Why he wasn’t avoiding him like was supposed to do for the sake of both of them?

"You know, I'm fifteen, but I'm not stupid. We made a deal, you choose it that way. So, just-" Peter felt very mature saying that, although he really didn’t want it, all he wanted at that moment was for Thor to take him on his arms and tell him that everything would be fine, but that wasn’t him, nor in the least. All that longing felt alien on his body and Peter wanted it out.

He kept walking, not allowing Thor to speak. Probably that of walking away from people would become a habit, but it didn’t bother him, as long as it was the idiots who seemed to break his heart despite not having any kind of relationship with them.

A thunder rumbled on the distance, and Peter wished that diluted so much that that classes were cancelled the next day, because he didn’t know how he would see Gwen in the eyes being aware that he’d cheated her twice already. Although it didn’t feel like cheating, it was. He ignored the itch on his eyes again, and thought again of his feelings for the men.

Why did his heart feel like it was going to tear itself apart with every rejection? Would it still be the effect of the first time? But with Mr. Stark it wasn’t even the first time and although he appreciated the man, as he did with Thor, that abrupt emotion he now felt for them was invasive and suffocating. As if he needed to be with them at all costs, as if he wanted them to just have him and take care of him forever, not to leave, and obviously not to reject Peter after having intimated. The rejection devastated him, it implanted like a black and thick puddle in the bottom of his stomach and made him feel like rolling up on a sheet and crying until his body was left without tears.

May was in the kitchen when he got home; he greeted her quickly avoiding seeing her face, because he felt he couldn’t and locked himself in his room. Peter knew that May wasn’t stupid, and that she would probably go at any moment to investigate what’d happened but as long as that didn’t happen, Peter could sink into his misery slowly.

He felt his thighs sticky and wet, clinging to his jeans without contemplation, and remembered that he hadn’t even cleaned himself before leaving. Another choked sob came out of his throat, as if he didn’t know what to do with himself. It was a disaster, everything. He had destroyed two completely healthy and normal relationships within two days. That must be a new record, even for Peter.

Peter showered as quickly and consciously as he could and as soon as he was in bed, he heard May knocking gently and opening the door, –a habit she’d acquired after Peter discovered how his parts worked–, she stopped there, under the doorframe, eyeing him curiously through the filtered light.

"Are you okay, honey?" May asked, in a soft voice. The voice she used to invite Peter to confess all his biggest secrets.

"Yeah."

"Had a fight? Maybe... Gwen?" Peter pursed his lips. He’d tried so hard to keep Gwen out of his minefield of feelings and then be reintroduced, by force, by May.

"No, just tired." May didn’t buy it, he heard her sigh with resignation and shift her weight from one foot to the other.

"You can tell me anything, Peter, you know that, right?"

"Yes." It took a superhuman effort that his voice didn’t shake. Actually, he wished fervently to tell May everything, or whoever, as long as he could just stop feeling such a heavy burden on his shoulders.

May left, wishing him _good night_ and leaving the door ajar so that some of the light from the hallway to the room would enter, Peter appreciated the gesture. Since he’d moved in with May, had always been afraid of sleeping alone and only the light in the corridor helped him fall asleep more easily, giving a path of light in case he woke up in the middle of the night to reach the room of his aunt, who cooed him and assured that there was nothing to fear.

Right now, Peter felt ten-years-old again, terrified and not knowing what to do, with the only desire to be lulled and consoled by May, without being able to do so. So he settled for hugging his blanket so hard he felt the blood draining from his hands.

He had to make a resolution and obviously had a very important conversation with Mr. Stark, and another with Thor, if none of them decided to flee the town, as Thor apparently planned. Peter had to ask them, in scientific terms, what’d led them to do what they’d done, because obviously there must be an explanation. A logic one; and not the irreverent idea that both of them wanted Peter with the intensity of a thousand suns.

Peter wanted an explanation for what was happening, because the common factors in both situations were heat and suddenly, desire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so muuuuch for reading, and for the amazing comments, you guys are amazing and I feel very flatered because of them and the kudos, and the bookmarks. Thank you so much a thousand times.


End file.
